I am getting concerned.
Some time ago, K8 and TAT started leaving stuff here ‘for storage’.
First it was a log burner. That was followed by a fridge, a patio heater, a gas cylinder and various other bits and pieces. We have also somehow inherited a trampoline and an inflatable children’s pool.
Now TAT has left their computer here. And that is very dear to his heart. He can’t live without his games.
K8 has somehow acquired a key to the house and is insisting that I park permanently in the lane, in case they call. I’m also starting to get their post. And phone calls. The calls for K8 are OK, but the calls for TAT are rather worrying [“Tell TAT that the job is on for Tuesday night” or “Tell TAT that the shipment is arriving in Dingle Bay”. They never leave a name or a number.]
They called again on Sunday. TAT rewired my office in a strange way, so that his equipment works but mine doesn’t. K8 cooked us a beautiful barbecue that was like nothing I have ever tasted before. She wouldn’t say what the meat was [but come to think of it, I haven’t seen the neighbour’s cat since?]. Then she went off and measured all the windows.
This morning we had a couple of strange phone calls. The first was from a builder who wants to convert our garage into a games room. The second was from a rather cranky woman in the “Shangri La” retirement home in Reykjavik, in Iceland about a lifetime booking [?]. Both callers hung up when they realised that K8 wasn’t here.
I am extremely honoured that K8 and TAT want to give me all their furniture and stuff and even their precious computer. It is very generous of them. They are lovely kids.
But why do they want to book themselves into an old folk’s home in Iceland?
I’ll never understand my daughter.
I’m a bit concerned for her.